


Prey or Predator

by Merfilly



Category: Aliens vs Predators Series - Various Authors
Genre: Community: spook_me, Gen, Halloween, Hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Yautja have tracked a xenomorph-infested ship to a new hunting ground, but are they the only predators there?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prey or Predator

Nameless and needing none, the drone scurried to prepare a proper nest, followed by ten more of its own type. They had been created from the pets of the latest species that had blundered into the previous nest, and thus were more suited to the damp caverns that would serve them on this new planet. Species' memory provided the drone with all it needed to create the support of the nest, while the thinking part of the brain gave it the resources to adapt in face of tidal waters.

It was one of the ones that had arrived first, thus it was deeper into the caverns than any other, exploring a passage that potentially led back out onto land by its sounds. The drones did not feel fear; they lived and died solely for the queen and the hive. It needed to know what was down the passage so it could design the correct portion of the nest for it, so it went deeper.

When daylight fell on the caverns, only ten drones settled to rest, the forward scout missing.

`~`~`~`~`

Elaborate hand-signs passed between the trio of bipedal hunters as they spread out from the crash site, looking for traces of their prey. They had tracked the infected ship this far, following it down in hopes of a good hunt. What adaptations would this world force upon their chosen prey? What benefits had the host species passed on to them to make for a better Hunt?

The three yautja worked out equitable terms for the exploration, careful to claim separated territories to prevent hostilities between their clans, then they moved out into the damp, humid environment.

They would make trophies on this planet, or they would not be taken back in when their ship returned.

`~`~`~`~`

The new nest flooded sometimes, despite the best effort of the architect drones. It was unsuitable for their queen, and it could never support ground level eggs. This meant that more exploration was necessary, or new materials should be brought in to shore up their walls.

Ten explorers pushed down the smaller tunnels, for the ground above was too soggy and open for their preferred environment. When several of these smaller tunnels led to pockets of brackish water, the explorers were disappointed, but plunged bravely in, to determine if they could be drained and then filled to help with the problem.

Only two explorers returned to the main nest at the end of three planetary rotations.

`~`~`~`~`

The yautja was pleased. He had tracked the signs correctly -- the elaborate nest building could only be because a queen was within. The impulse to hunt alone could not be overridden, no matter that no yautja took on an entire nest as a solitary hunt, especially not a queen's nest. Impulsively, he entered the nest with all of his camouflage in place, eager to explore the new, rich hunting ground.

Tunnels and chambers alike, however, proved fruitlessly empty, despite the relatively recent signs of occupation. Frustrated, the warrior-hunter pushed deeper, following acid marks in the resin floors, seeking his trophies, never pausing to consider what had spilled the blood of his prey. 

`~`~`~`~`

A beacon summoning hunters drew one of the yautja on the surface back towards a cave system. His imaging and thermal readouts indicated there was an entrance to the tunnels just across a narrow and none-too-deep stretch of brackish water. He ignored the faint whisk of tendrils along his mostly bare legs, set on gaining the entrance of the caverns.

Motion drew the attention of the hunter away from that goal, shining disk of death in his hand before instinct could be overridden. Turn, throw, then judge what his instincts had set him against... and the yautja had to stare a moment in disbelief as the disk was swatted down by what should be new prey. Other weapons were brought out, the spear that was his pride in one hand as his shoulder-mounted pulse cannon began tracking.

The spear was crunched into pieces, its circuitry sparking from the damage, before the cannon found its target and blasted a small hole in the armored carapace. A high whistling call of distress escaped the new prey, and the yautja readied for another blow, pulling a blade for in-close fighting. The yautja was chest deep in the water, his legs still being touched by hidden tendrils... and then those tendrils moved with purpose, twining along his legs, sharp tips puncturing his hard hide and seeking nerve clusters. 

The hunter allowed his cannon to pulse repeatedly, panic disrupting his accuracy, as first his legs went numb, and then a creeping sense of being caged within his own body emerged. Bit by bit he was losing his motor function, until the tendrils won completely, leaving him aware but fully paralyzed.

The pincer claw of the new prey was the last thing he saw, its power and density more than enough to sever armor, flesh, and bone.

`~`~`~`~`

For both of the other hunters to fail to respond was not too unusual. The Hunt could be consuming. For both of them to ignore a call to investigate the opening of a nest was out of the ordinary. Still, the yautja were a hardy species, and fear was not known to them. Their harsh outlook on life precluded it entirely. Danger that would have prompted fear in other species merely triggered a rush of hormones that overcame all obstacles in their kind.

That did not mean they were completely blind to danger though. The yautja inspected the entrance, then looked for other means of entering the nest. That there was only this one, that the nest was so small finally convinced him to risk entering alone, driven by hopes of a solid Hard Meat carapace for his trophies at last.

That the passage he took led straight to a single, dry chamber, the walls solidified by resin and drone armor both was odd from all the older hunters had ever said of this prey. He kept his shoulder weapon still, flying disk at the ready, and braved the open chamber. 

Not a single drone greeted his appearance, and the leathery casings of eggs that had been prepared were quiescent. A gingerly prod of the nearest one caused it to fall over, crumbling into dust as if it had been sucked dry. That made him inspect the next one a little more carefully, noticing the many small holes that had been punched in it and the odd darkening at the mouth of the pod, as if something had rested there.

A small rustling noise distracted the yautja from his investigation, leading him toward the point where the queen should have presided in the chamber. A small, hard-shelled creature with pincer claws and many legs was just disappearing down a small chute that had been bored up to this chamber. The scent of brackish water came from below, as well as the resounding echoes of a full complex under the nest.

Perhaps there was still a hunt to have. That thought led the yautja back out of the nest to look for access below.

`~`~`~`~`

The twisting tunnel had been difficult to find, but the hunter had moved swiftly through it, thoughts of new trophies from prey that could destroy Hard Meat making him bold. Perhaps too bold, for he never took note that this passageway had no guardians, no traps to deter those who entered.

He only checked his forward speed as the tunnel gave way suddenly to a large cavern lit by luminous organisms clinging to the damp walls. The floor was a pool of that brackish water, with small islands... islands made of drone bodies that had been torn apart and stacked to cradle the upside down skulls that had once been attached.

Inside those skulls, several of the curiously clawed, many-limbed creatures were clambering, fighting over bits of... glowing flesh. The kind of glow that came from yautja blood slowly drying.

All his senses alerted by that grisly reminder that even yautja could be killed, the young hunter cast about for the danger, backing into the tunnel from the edge of the water-covered cavern floor.

A whistling call sounded behind him, and he whirled to find a behemoth specimen of the small creatures had emerged to cut off retreat, using a tunnel the yautja had overlooked.

Had his facemask been off, the hunter would have bared his mandibles as he roared his defiance... even as he was pushed back into the water, where the tendrils waited.

`~`~`~`~`

The new brood would thrive, enjoying the highly acid meat of the nesting creatures. The more reptilian meat was different from the usual fodder for a young brood, and would no doubt have an effect on their development. 

The cloud sentries with their long trailing tendrils would watch for more things falling from the sky, in hopes of feeding their warrior guardians so well again.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Spook Me 2012 using two picture prompts:
> 
> http://i879.photobucket.com/albums/ab353/spook_me/Spook_me%20Fairie%20Tales/118078821450135815_CSPdEfIW_f.jpg
> 
> http://i879.photobucket.com/albums/ab353/spook_me/Spook_me%20Fairie%20Tales/ArthurBEvans1.jpg


End file.
